


Clack

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cosplay, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The boys dress up.





	Clack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cream_pudding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cream_pudding/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for Cream_Pudding’s “Noct and Prompto cosplay Zack and Cloud from FFVII and it turns smutty somehow. Blowjobs probably.” request on [my dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html?thread=10918#cmt10918).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy VII, XV, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Relatively speaking, their costumes aren’t _that_ difficult, but they’re definitely more complex than they need to be. It helps that they’ve chosen an older game with graphical limitations, so they don’t have to deal with an array of needless belts and buckles like they would if they’d gone later in the series. Noctis’ purple-black faux-military outfit looks pretty accurate, but he fidgets with it in the bathroom mirror for a few minutes anyway. Prompto’s doing the same at his side, tugging at the fabric and adjusting the bracers on his arm. He has one metal shoulder plate that’s visibly weighing him down, and the thick belt around his middle doesn’t _quite_ sit right. Noctis turns to tug at it, making it more centered.

“How do I look?” Prompto asks, unable to stop grinning. He’s been all smiles since he showed up and found their costumes all ready to go. It won’t be their first year at the convention, but it’s the first year they’ve cosplayed, and peering at their reflections, they don’t look at all like first time amateurs. Noctis steps back to make his assessment.

“Well, the outfit’s great...”

“And?” Prompto presses, placing one hand on his hip and flexing the other arm. He does have decent arms, but they’re nowhere near the balloon biceps Cloud had in the original. 

Taking all that in, Noctis admits, “Not quite right.” Prompto’s smile drops, and Noctis explains, “You’re all sunshine and roses, and Cloud’s more...” he thinks a moment before deciding on, “Broody.” Which still isn’t quite right, but close enough.

Prompto pouts adorably, his posture shrinking in and his arms crossing. “How about now?”

Noctis just laughs, because that looks even worse.

“Hey, you’re not a perfect Zack either. You’re way too lazy.”

“Hey!” Noctis laughs, reaching out to shove Prompto’s non-shield-bearing arm. Prompto laughs louder, and Noctis steps back to crouch down, arms swinging out at his sides. He imitates Zack’s trademark warm-up movement. It shouldn’t be tiring, because Noctis is no stranger to hardcore training, but the heavy spots of armour on him do make it more of a chore. He stops at three repetitions and straightens back out again. Prompto’s still laughing, which plasters a smile on Noctis’ face. He chirps, “See? I win.” And then he closes the distance between them to peck Prompto’s mouth, claiming his victory.

Prompto doesn’t protest. His arms unfold to gently wrap around Noctis, and for a moment, they just enjoy that. Noctis isn’t a prince anymore: he’s a regular dork having fun with another cute guy. Or they’re unfortunate rogue soldiers in a moment’s reprieve.

Prompto quietly says, “Y’know, I think Cloud was only so broody so long because he was hung up on Zack.”

Noctis shares the same theory, but he still teases, “Sure you’re not projecting there?”

Prompto grins wide and beautiful, which makes it impossible not to kiss him. This one lands on his lips, and Noctis can’t help prying them open with his tongue. Prompto takes him in with a little moan, and Noctis presses close enough that their belts click against each other. Noctis takes several roaming kisses before he lets Prompto go. 

Prompto only pauses to mumble, “Ignis did an amazing job with these; you look just like him. ...When’s our ride coming, by the way?”

Zack Fair never wore a watch, so Noctis has to glance over Prompto’s shoulder to spot the digital clock on the counter. “Half an hour.” His hands drop down to Prompto’s hips, massaging through the dark blue fabric as he adds, “We’d look better if Gladio would let us cart a couple of giant swords in...” But Prompto’s right; the rest looks _amazing_. Prompto’s pants even have the voluminous bunches around the knees, tapering back in around his ankles. While Noctis’ eyes trail down them, he finds his body lowering too. 

He sinks lower to kneel on the tile, hands running all over Prompto’s legs, right down to the brown boots and back up to his waist. Prompto’s breath hitches. Noctis leans closer, nosing just beneath the large belt to murmur, “You’re _perfect._ ”

Prompto chokes out, “ _Noct_ —” 

Noctis corrects, “Zack.” Prompto answers his mischievous grin with a shaky one. Noctis knows he’s fallen into dangerous territory but can’t seem to get back up again. He presses his face right into Prompto’s crotch, breathing in, eyes falling closed. Then he mutters, “I’ve got that right, at least; I’m pretty sure Zack would be a generous lover...”

Prompto moans as Noctis picks up his ministrations. He opens wide to mouth Prompto’s filling cock through the fabric, even though he knows he shouldn’t be wetting it. He can’t seem to stop. He closes around Prompto’s bulge and digs in, pushing Prompto back against the counter. One of Prompto’s hands flies into his hair—another problem, because they’ve already styled themselves, and he doesn’t need Prompto rearranging the spikes. He gives Prompto a constrained blowjob anyway, because Prompto makes the most delicious noises when his dick’s in Noctis’ mouth. It’s just a shame the outfit’s so difficult to get open, so Noctis can’t easily sneak around the back and finger Prompto at the same time.

Noctis tries anyway. He ducks a hand between Prompto’s legs and cups him tightly, finding his sac and playing with it, the other hand kneading his cheeks. Prompto’s breath comes out in sharp, staccato pants. He whines brokenly, “ _Zack_ , we shouldn’t—!”

But he breaks himself off with a cry, and Noctis can feel the fabric in his mouth growing damp. He pulls back with a broad smirk. He’s also hard, but he can control himself better than Prompto. Blushing bright red, Prompto groans.

“You ruined my costume!”

Intellectually, Noctis knows he did, and he knows that’s bad. But he’s immature and can’t help snickering anyway. Prompto looks mortified. 

He pushes Noctis back with a huff and moves around him, ducking down to try and find cleaning supplies in the cupboard under the sink. Noctis has no idea where Ignis keeps them. But he at least knows how to use the washing machine. He offers, “I’ll text Ignis and tell him we’re running late.” Prompto hangs his head in shame, but Noctis just starts climbing out of his own outfit—now there’ll be time to take care of him too.


End file.
